Mrs. Hart's Ache Ch. 04

This is the thirteenth installment of

Mrs. Hart's Ache

Chapter IV Things are coming to a head

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Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar.
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This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way.

James Mark Masterson.

Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do.

And to do who he wants to do.

In this chapter we learn a bit about Mrs Hart, and a lot about James' thought processes, analytical abilities and the lengths to which he might go for revenge and retribution.

Mrs Hart fucked up bigtime; she just doesn't know quite yet how bigtime.

Don't worry, James will let her know eventually.

But first, he has to find out a little bit more about the lady in question.

Then… well, then we will see, won't we…

Happy reading.

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IV Things are coming to a head

"Mrs Hart on the other hand rates me somewhere south of the doggy-bombs her three yapping ankle-biters leave behind as traps for the unwary."

Now that you are all tuned in on my recent sex life, it's time to get back to the main story: that of the title character in this missive, Mrs Veronica Hart.

Throughout the month, two things stood out:

Time out.

That's beside the hot tub session with Margot and Erin. And of course there's the relaxation interlude with Bethany. And that date I had with Chelsea. And then there's that confab I had with Liz. And the discipline session with Cassandra. And that round of golf and dinner with Chloe. Then of course the Prom with Erin again, and Patrice. And the memorable evening with Doctors Sanders and Teasley – that woman does love to have her ass spanked. Almost makes me want to retake my senior year. And who can forget that trip with Natasha.

Yes, you're right, I can be an insufferable asshole at times, can I not?!

But hey, it's my story.

I can tell it a-n-y w-a-y I w-a-n-t.

So there!

Time in.

As I said, two things stood out:

1. Mrs Hart did her best to make my life miserable.
2. Missy "borrowed" the key to the company townhouse, I made a copy and we spent an entire three-day weekend there in the city fucking our brains out.

That Mrs Hart put so much effort into bugging me only honed my desire to come up with a plan to take her down.

She told Missy that she didn't approve of me, and that she should be spending more time at the Country Club meeting the right sort of people.

Whenever I telephoned the house and Mrs Hart answered, she would always tell me that Missy was out. Of course that was pure bullshit. She did all the little sneaky things she could just to piss me off.

I learned from Missy that her mother did that kind of kiddy-crap to any guy that called, except a short list of the sons of her friends or acquaintances of whom she approved.

Then she did something that really pissed me off. I haven't been so freakin' angry with a female since BobbiSue Hobart bit my dick at her birthday party. That was the first time she went down on me after hearing that her best girlfriend Lisa Wiszkowski had blown me too.

Time out.

I got BobbiSue back though: I took her to bed one Saturday when the parents were gone for the day. We spent about six hours having sex. I used every trick the ladies in Misawa had taught me. BobbiSue must have cum fifteen times. She wasall fucked out.

That's the last time I had sex with BobbiSue. The next day I went celibate on her. Oh, I stayed friendly. We'd easily find the time to make out, but we never had sex again. I'd get her real hot for it, but somehow we never seemed to be able to be alone in the right place, at the right time. Either her friends were there, or my friends were there, or it was the wrong time of the month for her, or she was running late, or her mom was home, or…

You get the idea.

Oh I had great sex with other girls, but never again with her. Last I heard, she was going crazy looking for anyone (a guy or a girl) with whom she could repeat the experience.

God, can't kids be cruel.

Time in.

Every time I think of it, that 'something' Mrs Hart pulled still makes me burn. I had to get it out of my mind – put it in the box on the shelf – or I couldn't think straight.

It's one thing to take a shot at me. That's okay, I can handle it. But when she takes a shot at Mom…

Last week Mrs Hart called my mother for a "…little heart-to-heart conversation between two concerned mothers…". They talked for a few minutes. Then Mrs Hart slipped in that she had heard Missy mention that Mrs Masterson was Australian by birth.

When Mom answered to the affirmative, Mrs Hart proceeded to inform Mom that it would be best if her son James desisted from pursuing her daughter Missy, as "…after all, they have little in common, what with Missy's breeding being, shall we say, more selective than James'…"

Time out.

If the insult is obscure, there is an explanation below. If not, skip this interlude:

Remember, my mother is Australian by birth. Her parents – my grandparents – live there, as did their parents, etc.

I won't go into the complete history of that wonderful country. However, it is an unfortunate fact that, shortly after being claimed by Lieutenant Cook for the British Empire, the continent became the destination of exile for those convicted and so sentenced by the British Courts.

While it is certainly true that some of those so exiled were hardened criminals, murderers, thieves, pirates and the like, frequently the only crime committed was one of simple poverty. Many of those poor were young women, 'volunteers' sent to service the baser needs of guards and convicts.

Of course many people later emigrated there to seek their fortunes, much like those who came to America.

Australians take pride in their ancestry. After all, Australia is today because of their forebears' hard work, no matter who and what they were otherwise.

But Veronica Hart was not so subtly suggesting that my mother, if not precisely a whore herself, was certainly the descendant of prostitutes and criminals, who's son shared that same tainted ancestry and therefore was not a fit companion for her daughter.

Now, personally I do not give a rap what Veronica Hart thinks about me. But she took a shot – a very cheap, viscious and hurtful shot – at my mother.

About that I care deeply.

Pissed me off. Yes it did.

Time in.

Now, I was royally pissed when I heard about it. Even my Dad, who never gets angry, was visibly trembling when he heard about it. But Mom, oh dear…

Mom, fast-fearless-and-ruthless-Mom, took a firm grip on herself and the telephone. Then in her sweetest, softest, most reasonable voice, Mom informed Mrs Hart that she was quite certain of the caliber of her son's breeding. As were his godfathers, the Admiral and the Senator.

"...Yes, the Senator is an old friend. if I remember right, he was the featured guest at the brunch your club gave last Saturday. Did you have the opportunity to meet him?… hhmmm?…No? He had to leave for another engagement?… Oh thatisunfortunate, particulary since he spent the entire evening here with us… He is so close to James…"

Mom continued the telephone conversation by saying that she had heard from her son that Missy was a very nice girl. And, though she did not know Missy well as yet, since they had met only briefly over lunch, she herself had found Missy to be a charming young lady.

Mom went on to say that, from conversations with both her son and Missy, she also was also familiar with the names and backgrounds of Missy's parents. But, after conversing with Missy's mother for a short time, she too was convinced that there was a definite divide between the two young people.

After all, it had become obvious in the course of their conversation that while James has a father and a mother, Missy has a father and a…

"…but then, dear Veronica, there is no need for us to go into that, as we both know whatyouare, don't we…"

While Mrs Hart was considering the possibilites – in effect, thinking of herself as the end product of an obscene act with the nonhuman partner of her choice – and before she could react, Mom, still speaking in a soft, reasonable tone, said that she had to ring off, as she had a previous commitment, but invited Mrs Hart to meet her for lunch where they could continue the discussion on a much morePersonal level.

Mom very politely said good-bye and clicked off without waiting for a reply.

Then Mom took a deep breath, carefully placed the telephone in its cradle, walked out to the backyard and started throwing rocks into the lake. Big rocks. She was out there for about two hours. Her arm was sore afterwards, but at least she took the edge off of her furious.

Mrs Hart did not accept the offer for lunch. Good decision. She may be a bitch on wheels, but she isn't stupid.

I believe in this old adage: don't get mad, get even. Well I planned not only to get even, but I was going to get far ahead. And to get some head from Mrs Hart in the process.

Put it in the box James. Put itinthe box.

The long weekend in the townhouse with Missy was simply divine. We only left the place long enough to eat. The two women from the maid service came by a couple of times to change the sheets and spruce up the place, but I tipped the ladies fifty each, so we were covered four ways: bribery, they both liked Missy, they both liked me and they both despised Mrs Hart.

Missy's Dad happened to be home that week for a series of meetings. There was also a big dinner party at their Country Club in which his wife, Her Majesty the Queen Bitch, was heavily involved, so we were safe from her interference for the duration. Ostensibly Missy spent the weekend with a girlfriend. I called Mom to check in a couple of times, but my parents know that they will see me when they see me.

(Are they great parents or what?!)

Time out.

The more time I spent with Missy over that month, the more I liked her. She is a classy young lady. She is also in the process of becoming a very talented and imaginative lover. With a bit more training she will be spectacular. The ladies in Misawa taught me that sex is like any other human activity. The more you practice, the better you get.

A sixteen-year-old with a brand new driver's license doesn't climb into the family sedan for the first time and strap on the skills of a formula one driver along with the seat belt. No matter what he or she may think. A license just means that it is legal for you to drive. It doesn't mean you know how to drive.

It's the same with sex: practice makes perfect. Anybody can hop in bed and fuck. That doesn't mean they know the Kama Sutra. It takes time, and patience, and practice, and a good teacher. Or teachers (plural) for that matter.

I've always liked that plural part.

Also, to get better at sex, people have to lose a few of their inhibitions. Most people have a real hard time with that one.

Me, I'm totally into pussy. I don't have much of a problem with any course of study, but I've been studying pussy intently half my life.

One thing I've learned is that any time and effort I expend in helping a woman achieve orgasm comes back to me threefold. Women are so very grateful when a man fulfills their needs. I was teaching Missy that kind of attitude. I didn't press, but led her slowly into new things. She seems to appreciate the effort.

Time In

Missy spent a great deal of time that weekend sucking my cock. It was not my idea. She insisted that she needed the practice.

I spent a great deal of time tasting her pussy. Sweet! But I didn't lick her pussy just to practice; I licked her pussy because I'm addicted to it.

Pussy that is. Not just Missy's. Pussy in general.

I also spent some time teaching her new positions. Given the size of my weapon, we did take it slow though. Missy's sweet little pretty was not ready to take three days of pounding from a cock, particularly one as big as mine.

Her favorite positions thus far are on top facing me – she likes the control and loves it when I fondle her breasts – and on her knees with her ass in the air – she likesnot having control and she has ready access to her clit.

I have to be a bit careful with her in that position though. With her naked ass thrust high, her legs spread wide and my hands clutching her cheeks, Missy is wide open. I can bottom out real quick if I get too enthusiastic.

It's hard not to be enthusiastic when an equally enthusiastic young lady is offering herself that way. Particularly when she is pumping her ass while demanding that you give it to her hard, in a voice guaranteed to give a eunuch an erection.

Remember too, there are lots of other things that two imaginative people can do to pleasure themselves and each other. Like the lady said, Sixty-Nine is divine!

She also got into a little light bondage – blindfolded with her wrists tied to the headboard. She also got extremely excited when I playfully pulled her over my knee a spanked her bare ass a few times.

Missy ended that episode on the floor between my legs practically humping my leg while she sucked the cum from my nuts. God she was hot for that!

We were both sorry to see Monday evening arrive. We ate an early dinner then went back for one more leisurely screw before heading home. Missy cried a little when we left.

The episode also gave me an in to the townhouse. I made not one, but two copies of the key. That 'in' started generating a few ideas cooking. One of which looked like it had definite possibilities. I would know more after a bit of thought and a lot of preparation.

Making the decision to do it was relatively easy. Planning the action took some thought. That involved the infamous five W's and How.

Who? What? Why? When? Where? How?

The answers to Who, What, and Why were the easy part:

• Mrs Veronica Hart
• The disciplining of.
• Because she is the original bitch and desperately needs to be taught that she is not the Queen of All She Surveys, and because I will so thoroughly enjoy being the instructor.

Time out.

The last queen that had that kind of power was probably Natasha's ancestress, Catherine the Great. According to the history books, she was a complete - and completely horny – bitch too.

Cathy probably could have used a crack or two across the butt with a belt, but a belt lashing her naked ass would probably have just made her wet.

My hand cracking her beautiful butt a few times certainly makes Catherine's many-times-removed cousin Natasha wet! I figure it must run in the family.

Time in.

The general answer to When was easy too: after Missy and Miriam leave town. The specific answer to that question was hazy. Much depended upon the answers to the last two questions, Where and How.

I decided that there were four possibilities for the answer to the question of Where:

• The Hart home.
• Mrs Hart's office.
• The townhouse.
• The Hart family yacht.

I dismissed any other possibility because it had to be a place she would choose to go on a regular bases. I had to first meet and take her down on her ground. Later it could be a place or circumstance of my choice, when either she had no option but to obey me or even later, shechose to obey me. Until then, it had to be her ground, but my setup.

With the general outline for the question Where in hand, I looked at How. Here I did some deep thinking and came up with three possible scenarios:

• Active cooperation
• Blackmail
• Unlawful Restraint

As you may have observed, two of the three are felonies, with prison a possibility if caught, arrested, so charged and convicted. But I had already decided that though the risks were considerable, the rewards were commensurate.

Besides, when I thought about it, there was also at least the possibility of being charged with offenses like Assault, Rape and Sodomy too. But after meeting her, my sixth sense told me that Mrs Hart wanted at least part of what I had to offer.

Active cooperation was a distinct possibility, despite the way she had been treating me. Her nasty attitude may have been a cover for a serious case of envy.

Envy of her daughter, and her daughter's relationship with me. Missy and I together seemed to seriously piss off Mrs Hart. If that was true, then an affair with me might be attractive to her for several reasons:

• She would be 'protecting' her daughter.
• She would be stealing a man away from her daughter, thereby proving to herself that, at her age, she still had superior sex appeal.
• She was a Control Freak; the relationship with Missy and I was beyond her complete control, while she believed that, with the Power of the Puss, she would be in control of a direct relationship with me. And if all else failed, she could threaten to reveal all to her daughter.
• She would be getting some from a young stud.

I would bet serious money that getting some from a young stud definitely appealed to Mrs Hart. A woman doesn't dress and act the way she does, unless she has an active libido.

Which brought another thought to mind: if my line of reasoning held true, then she might already have a young stud (or more) on the side.

Now we were cooking!

To extend the thought, I had also seen the layout of the house, and had observed Missy's parents in action.

Item: separate bedrooms. Mr Hart sleeps in a room at one end of the mansion's east wing, while Mrs Hart's bedroom was at the other end. There is a long hallway in between. The carpet on the direct route between is not particularly worn.

Item: Mr Hart is on the road most of the time.

Item: Mrs Hart does not appear to be concerned with his long and frequent absences.

Item: When he is home, Mr Hart shows infinitely more affection to Missy than he does to his wife. (Hell, he shows more affection to the Ankle Biters, and he can't stand them.)

Conclusion: Mrs Hart wasn't getting any at home.

Corollary to that conclusion: Mr Hart wasn't getting any at home.

Is this important? Not yet. File it away for further thought.

Question: If Mrs Hart was not getting any at home, where was she getting it?

Because the more I thought about it, the more positive I was that she was getting her share of sex from someone, somewhere. I had seen the possibilities in her that day with Missy out by their pool. If she was halfway coming on to me – a young man she considered to be beneath her station – she must be actively engaged in doin' the dirty with someone more acceptable.

Time out.

It turned out that I was both right and wrong there. But read on to find out exactly how.

Time in.

Occam's Razor states that one should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed.

Translation: don't complicate things; the easiest explanation is most often the correct explanation.

Okaaayyy.

If Mrs Hart was getting some on the side, it wasn't at home. Too many witnesses, including her daughter. So it had to be:
• at work
• on the yacht
• in the townhouse
• or she had to go to 'him', whomever 'him' was.

Work was a definite possibility, but I had no convenient means of entry to her offices. I had to put that one on the back burner, to examine the other possibilities first.

The yacht seemed a touch inconvenient. It was moored at the yacht club, along with those of her friends and associates. That made it a bit too public. Unless the 'him' (or 'her' for that matter) was a member or one of the yacht club staff. I filed that one away too.